


It's a Long Long Way To Go

by Footloose



Series: Loaded March EXTRAS [23]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Remembrance Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Footloose/pseuds/Footloose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey's lucky, he knows.  He has insider information on Excalibur.  And he's never luckier than in this moment, when he gets to see them like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Long Long Way To Go

**Author's Note:**

> To all those who have served and are serving in the defence of their countries and the fight for our freedom, for our safety, and for peace, thank you.
> 
> * * *

The little Queen of Dragonkind placed a wreath next to all the others on the Cenotaph and solemnly took a step back. She turned on her heel and went to stand next to General Tachnathar, taking his hand. The General smiled down at her, the expression on his face kindly but sad.

"Seems a shame," a reporter from a rival station murmured, leaning into Mickey as if they were _friends_. Mickey stepped closer to Julia, but the other reporter didn't take the hint, coming closer as if he were on the attack. "I mean, she's a cute kid and all, but let's be honest. Everyone's here for her dad. Her dads? Her parents? How am I supposed to refer to them? What's the politically correct term? Anyway, we see enough of the Pendragon bloke these days, but what about the other one? Where is he off to? Did they break up? Inquiring minds want to know."

"Funny," Julia said, her tone cold, "I thought everyone was here to pay their respects to the veterans who fought for our country."

Mickey shot Julia a stern glare. They didn't need another brawl, and definitely not now, given the occasion. Julia took her sweet time acknowledging him, making a face before fussing unnecessarily with the camera.

When the opportunity arose, Julia spent as much time with the members of Excalibur as Mickey did. The soldiers could be the most courteous and diplomatic gentlemen on the face of the planet, but say the wrong thing in their hearing, and they would tear someone a new arsehole. Julia always had a problem curbing her tongue, but since hanging out with the team whenever they were in town, that problem had become the bane of Mickey's existence.

He was really sick and tired of cleaning up her messes, but if he were being honest? He _envied_ her. Just once, he'd like to be the one to throw the first punch.

"Where do you suppose they are?" the reporter asked, standing on the balls of his feet to peer down the road.

The parade was long and would easily take several hours to clear up. The main attractions had paid their respects, and some of the news stations were packing up, because there wasn't much else to film. The crowd around the Cenotaph and lining the roads hadn't lessened, and it wouldn't, because this was a big deal. It was the first Remembrance Day since the last battle on the bridge, which had marked the end of the war, even if there was a lot of fighting still going on around the world.

"Still on duty, aren't they?" someone from the Beeb's group said, glancing around. "Active assignments and whatever?"

"They are. Scattered all over the world, from what my sources tell me," Carly Thompson from the evening news said, nodding as if she had an "in" with the War Cabinet and Excalibur's movements. She glanced at Mickey, her eyes narrowed as if she expected him to contradict her, but Mickey ignored her. Carly ran the much-touted _Excalibur Watch_ program, but her ratings were shite. Anyone who wanted to know what was really going on always logged onto Mickey's online show. 

Not that he would reveal where the team members were, if he were privy to that knowledge. He'd gotten a dressing-down from Morgana and Gwen for letting it slip that Lucan and Lamorak were heading to Australia for a mission. Fortunately, he hadn't given dates or places, and it ended up being a no harm, no foul sort of situation, but he'd rather not be on the receiving end of another lecture from either of those two ladies ever again. He might have survived the incident, but he'd been permanently scarred. 

Never mind the zombie apocalypse that had overwhelmed London less than a year ago or the Valkyries unleashed over the city last month -- Mickey had nightmares of Morgana feeding him his bollocks, stir-fried with lemon and rosemary like Gwen had promised.

Julia shot him a wry grin, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. He frowned sternly at her before miming a key locking his mouth shut. Julia shrugged in that _laissez-faire_ way she had, and Mickey could almost hear her mutter, _I wouldn't tell any of these tossers, who do you take me for?_

He nodded, satisfied, and watched the parade progress.

The oldest surviving veterans of wars gone by had paid their respects. Men and women in uniform or civvies of every age marched past. The crowds thickened and thinned like the ebb and flow of the tide. As the hours passed by, a large measure of people remained behind the barricades, standing firm despite the biting cold.

Bit by bit, the reporters left. The pillock who had been stationed next to Mickey through the entire event clamped a hand down on Mickey's shoulder. "We're having a pint at the pub down the road, are you coming?"

"Nah," Mickey said, lifting the collar of his coat. "We'll stay to the end. Thanks, though."

The reporter glanced up at the darkening skies. "Don't come crying to us when you get soaked through."

"Save me a towel, at least," Mickey said.

"You're on your own," the reporter said. He eyed Julia with a broad, lecherous grin. "Her, on the other hand…"

Julia's eyes narrowed.

Mickey sighed. He considered taking a step out of the way to let Julia claw the man's face off, but he really needed a cameraman today, so he stayed where he was in the hopes of catching Julia in mid-lunge. Lucky for the reporter, he wasn't so thick to not notice when he'd stepped in it, because he retreated hastily.

"I swear to God," Julia muttered.

By the time Mickey could see the parade's end, there were only a couple of other teams on the platform recording. The crowd was as thinning, too, either because the winds had become more biting or because it was getting close to tea-time; Mickey didn't know. But no sooner had the last group come through that all those who remained began to disperse.

Julia turned off her camera, but she didn't pack up her gear. Instead, she carefully wrapped the equipment to protect it from the drizzle.

The other teams hesitated and in a wordless exchange of glances all around, decided to stay. Julia passed Mickey an umbrella. He engaged it and stepped closer to Julia just as the rain fell.

"Mister?" A pre-teen boy crept closer, his two friends hanging back. "You're the reporter who's friends with Excalibur, right?"

Mickey glanced at Julia. Julia reached into her bag to retrieve a second umbrella and said, "I'll get some coffee."

Mickey waited until Julia was gone before approaching the edge of the platform to crouch down near the kid. "I know them, yeah."

The boy beamed, turning around to give his friends the thumbs-up sign. "Do you know if they're coming today?"

If Mickey had a quid for every time he'd been asked that question, he'd… well, he wouldn't be a rich man, but he would be able to keep himself flush in pints for a month, at least. He told his fellow reporters to _Sod off_ , random strangers were given one of the many non-answers he'd prepared in advance, but a _kid_ \--

Mickey wasn't that kind of an arse. He frowned and crooked a finger to invite him closer. "Can you keep a secret?"

The boy's eyes went round and his mouth formed a big O. "Yeah."

Mickey checked the time on his mobile. A friend of his at the military landing field outside of London had given him a heads-up to certain arrivals, but even that wasn't a guarantee that Excalibur would arrive. The tip-off had been when Mickey finished an interview with Arthur and off-handedly asked if the boys would be home for Christmas.

"I'm not sure," Arthur had said, sounding exhausted. He'd reached for his calendar, flipping through the sheets, and had stared at _November_ for so long that Mickey figured that Arthur had something in mind. 

If there was anything that Mickey had learned about Arthur Pendragon, it was that he could move _worlds_ to make things happen. He'd never questioned how or why Arthur did the things he did, and he didn't question them now. November 11 th was important to Excalibur, and even if Mickey didn't know the details, it made sense that Arthur would move mountains to get the boys home for that, if nothing else.

He met the boy's eyes. He smiled. "They'll be here."

The boy nearly whooped, but Mickey quickly shushed him.

"Hey, now. Look. You have to promise me something," Mickey said warningly. "They're coming, but they're coming for a reason."

He pointed to the Cenotaph. 

"Oh," the boy said, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh yeah!"

"Don't rush them, yeah? Let them have their time. They're good blokes. They'll come over and say hi after," Mickey said.

"You promise?" the boy asked.

"I promise." Mickey hoped he wasn't putting his foot in his mouth, but he had a feeling the team would be all right with coming over to see the crowd. They were minor celebrities, and some of them even enjoyed it.

The boy ran off with a hasty _Thank you_ thrown over his shoulder. He joined his friends, and Mickey watched them exclaim excitedly before his vision was blocked by a pair of shapely legs and coffee in a tall cardboard cup.

"Is that them?" Julia asked.

Mickey stood up, bringing the coffee cup close to his chest for warmth. He squinted through the rain at the approaching headlights down the road. Several automobiles parked along the kerb, the engines turning off one by one. 

"It's got to be," Mickey murmured. He put his coffee cup on the ground and took Julia's umbrella, giving her some shelter as she set up the camera.

A SUV arrived. Two more cars. A motorcycle. A cab.

It was late in the day. The sun was dragging diffused light beyond the horizon. The clouds were dark with rain and continued to pour, though for the moment it had lessened to little more than a teasing drizzle. Mickey couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like all the team had assembled.

The man on the motorcycle had taken off his helmet. He shrugged his leather jacket from his shoulders and dumped it on the seat of the bike. 

As if that was everyone's cue, all the car doors opened and divested their passengers. Someone passed the motorcycle driver another coat that was hastily put on; he dug a sand-coloured beret from an inner pocket and put it on smoothly. Each man clasped the driver's shoulder as they walked around him, taking formation.

It was impossible not to pick Arthur Pendragon out of the crowd, even at a distance. Though his blond hair was under a beret, Arthur stood, shoulders back, spine ramrod straight, demanding attention. And yet, when he advanced, it was without so much as a spoken command, his men falling into step with him with the ease of long practice.

They were all there, every one of them. Leon, with his reddish-blond curls tucked beneath his beret. Perceval, head and shoulders above the rest. Merlin, looking as if he'd stepped off an airplane and had barely had time to pull himself together. Gwaine walked next to him, followed by the rest.

They marched on the Cenotaph, their gazes fixed on a single spot in the distance, as if each of them were lost in a thousand-mile-stare that was all their own. Mickey didn't know how _anybody_ could stand fast with these men coming at them.

They weren't all in uniform. Mordred, Lucan and Geraint were wearing civvies. Gwaine, who had been the one on the motorcycle, had quickly made himself presentable in his uniform jacket. 

Uniform or not, it didn't matter. There was no mistaking who these men were. What they were. What they'd given of themselves, and what they had yet to give.

The members of Excalibur moved with clockwork precision. No one was out of time. Even Mordred, who hadn't been officially conscripted into the army but was just as much a part of the team, looked as if he was cut from the same mould.

How solemn the moment was. It was quiet -- so quiet. The other news crews might as well not have been there. The crowd lingered at a distance, silent behind a barricade that had been removed hours ago, motionless despite the rain.

Excalibur came to a stop alongside the Cenotaph. They about-faced on their heels.

They stood for an eternity, sentinels over the dead, honouring the fallen.

The minutes passed, only to be broken, finally, by a deep, warbling baritone --

" _Up to mighty London  
__Came an Irishman one day --_ "

Mickey saw Arthur side-eye Gwaine.

" _As the streets are paved with gold_  
_Sure, everyone was gay,_  
_Singing songs of Piccadilly,_  
_Strand and Leicester Square,_  
_Till Paddy got excited,  
__Then he shouted to them there:_ "

Almost as one, the team sang the chorus,

" _It's a long way to Tipperary,_  
_It's a long way to go._  
_It's a long way to Tipperary_  
_To the sweetest girl I know!_  
_Goodbye, Piccadilly,_  
_Farewell, Leicester Square!_  
_It's a long long way to Tipperary,  
__But my heart's right there._ "

Mickey's heart swelled, fully with emotion. 

The team sang through the chorus again, but it was Gwaine and Lucan who carried the body of the song, Perceval reaching out to rub a hand down Gwaine's back when his voice cracked over the last few lyrics.

" _… Leave the Strand and Piccadilly_  
_Or you'll be to blame,_  
_For love has fairly drove me silly:  
__Hoping you're the same!_ "

" _It's a lo-o-oong way to Tipperary, It's a lo-o-oong way to go,_ " Will drew out, his voice breaking on the last. He wiped his face and shrugged off a concerned Kay, gesturing up at the falling rain.

" _It's a long way to Tipperary_  
_To the sweetest girl I know!_  
_Goodbye, Piccadilly,_  
_Farewell, Leicester Square!_  
_It's a long long way to Tipperary,  
__But my heart's right there._ "

The notes faded sweetly under the rain faintly drumming upon the pavement. Then, to a man, they saluted. 

"Oh my God," Julia murmured. "These boys."

"Yeah," Mickey said, cradling one of the umbrellas on his shoulder so that he could wipe his tears.

The members of Excalibur held the salute as long as they'd held the moment of silence, dropping their hands to their sides. They marched away from the Cenotaph, toward the cameras, and it seemed that they would continue straight through them. They split as they came close, spreading out toward the crowd. Mickey didn't know how so many new people could have arrived without his noticing, but everyone was here. Morgana met Leon halfway, Bohrs picked up his little sister, Lance took his baby girl out of Gwen's arms and kissed Gwen on the cheek, and --

"Papa!"

Aithusa broke away from the crowd, leaving behind Hunith and Balinor, and ran across the pavement to launch herself into Merlin's arms. Merlin caught her easily, hefting her up against his chest, hugging her tightly. Arthur came up behind them, his arm around Merlin's shoulders.

 _There are her dads_ , Mickey thought with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> The title and the lyrics are both from [It's a Long Long Way to Tipperary](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It's_a_Long_Way_to_Tipperary) (Wikipedia link).


End file.
